


Coffee Snobbery and Other Ways to Meet Cute Boys

by OhNoMyBreadsticks



Series: Bready writes for friends [18]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Hipsters, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nicknames, Sarcasm, coffee snobbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoMyBreadsticks/pseuds/OhNoMyBreadsticks
Summary: Silas isn't the kind of person who would be caught dead in a major chain coffee shop. That's why he never gives the barista his name to call for his order. It's fine, it's not like anyone else would do the same thing with the same order, right?...Right?
Relationships: CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Elijah Kamski
Series: Bready writes for friends [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563877
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Coffee Snobbery and Other Ways to Meet Cute Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stray_dog_sick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/gifts).



> This fic was written for Mitch, who asked for Kam60 in literally any other setting than BE9 😂 Which look, I don't blame them! My Kam60 isn't exactly the softest of pairings lmao. It was really fun to write these two again, it's been a while for me! Mitch always writes such great comments, and I'm really grateful for their support! I hope you enjoy this little modern AU C: 
> 
> Also yes, I'm pretty sure Starbucks _makes_ you give your name when you order, but just go with me on this one ;)

If anyone asks, Silas doesn’t have a favorite coffee shop. If he did, it would be a cool indie one, where they hand roast the beans and only play music no one’s ever heard of. It certainly wouldn’t be a major chain peddling sugary crap made with syrups, while pop top 100 blasts from the speakers. Definitely not. Those places don’t have a soul, and they certainly aren’t good for inspiration if you happen to be an aspiring graphic designer. And the people that frequent them? Absolutely not worth fraternizing with. Business people and tired college students and frazzled moms, really the bottom of the barrel.

The problem is, there aren’t any cool indie coffee shops near Silas’ apartment, and he’s not exactly rolling in the money needed to take a taxi into the city or (shock, horror) pay for parking if he borrows his twin’s car. The only place within walking distance is one of those big chain places. Yes, the one with the green logo. Yes, he refuses to admit the name out loud. He only goes there because it has better internet than the crappy stuff in his apartment complex anyways. The fact that he has to drink a shitty coffee to get it is just an unfortunate side effect.

The first few times, he’d tried to just order a black coffee, but the bitterness of the inferior roast had almost made him gag. And despite everything, he really did need the caffeine boost. So he’d set out to find the most caffeinated, least offensive drink. Eventually he’d settled on this mint chocolate abomination they brought out during the holidays, but would make on request. It was sickly sweet, yes, but the sweetness successfully covered the bitterness of the beans, and the mint was something for him to focus on that wasn’t just chocolate syrup.

Most importantly, it was unique enough that for most of the year, he didn’t have to give his name. Silas wasn’t exactly the coolest name, you see, and he tried to avoid using it whenever possible. But if he used his nickname, someone might actually recognize him, and then all of his coffee snob credibility would be down the drain. It was much easier to just wait for his drink order to be called, and quickly shuffle up to grab it before anyone else so much as looked up from their laptops. It’s not the most elegant scheme, but nothing about this setup is ideal so Silas will take what he can get.

He’s in the middle of a particularly tough project this week - logos always annoy the shit out of him - so he’s almost relieved to sink into his usual armchair in the corner of the shop today. At least now his browser won’t keep hanging every time he downloads a new stock element. Silas keeps half an ear out for the barista to call his drink, and when he hears it he gets up without much thought to nab his grande or venti or whatever the biggest size is.

Except his autopilot is completely broken when he gets to the little window and someone else is reaching for his drink.

“Hey, that’s mine” Silas snaps, the mortification of having to actually admit that out loud making him even more pissy than usual.

And my god, the man who turns to look at him with an equal amount of unrighteous annoyance, he looks like he belongs anywhere but here too. He’s got an  _ undercut _ for god’s sake, pulled back into a messy bun, tattoos peeking out from the edges of his sleeves and shirt collar, and gauges in his ears. Not too big, but definitely in-your-face sized. Silas has to stop himself from just staring at what’s essentially a hipster’s wet dream made real. And he feels confident saying that, as the resident self-proclaimed hipster in his friend group.

“Like hell it is. No one would want to drink this shit.” Bun guy says, and Silas wrinkles his nose in annoyance. His voice is hot too, fuck that.

“Then why are you here?” Silas asks pointedly, and the other man has the audacity to look haughty about it.  _ Haughty _ , in the middle of a sorority girl’s favorite stomping grounds.

“I wanted to see if they’d actually make it. And I couldn’t very well put my name on it, could I? What if someone hears it?” He says.

The retort Silas has on the tip of his tongue is cut short by a very tired barista shoving a second drink onto the window and shooting them a smile that says ‘I need to earn my minimum wage but if you two don’t get the fuck out I’m going to do something we’ll all regret.’ Silas takes the hint, snagging his drink and retreating towards his comfy armchair. Much to his annoyance (surprise? relief?) the undercut guy follows him, pulling up a chair next to his and making himself weirdly at home.

“I gave my excuse, what’s yours for drinking this swill?” He asks, looking pointedly at all of Silas’ things strewn around, clearly set up for a long stay in this coffee shop.

“I’m working, and the sugar smothers all these shitty bitter beans” Silas grumbles, not enjoying the feeling of being judged. He wishes he had run into this guy literally anywhere else, so that he could actually look cool in front of him. Maybe even get his number. Not like that’s going to happen now, with them both half glaring at each other while some auto-tuned dude warbles over the speakers in the background. 

Bun guy takes a sip of his drink, swishes it around in his mouth like he’s at some kind of fucking wine tasting, and swallows. He grimaces a little, then gives a little shrug. 

“You may have a good point...” He admits, a half smile quirking up his lips, “What was your name? I didn’t quite catch it.”

And fuck it, Silas knows that sometimes you gotta bit a bullet to get a shot at something good. “You can call me Sixty.” He says, and sticks out a hand expectantly.

  
The hand that clasps his is warm and strong, and so is the smile that spreads across the other man’s face. “Elijah” He says in return, and Sixty has to admit that maybe big box coffee chains can have their benefits sometimes. After all, if the two of them are here, it can’t be  _ that _ uncool.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I really did love making these two sarcastic snobby hipsters lol, but lovable!
> 
> Any and all comments or kudos at any time are loved and cherished <3 If you'd like to see more of my drabbles or stop by for a chat you can find me over on [tumblr](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/)! :)


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